


If These Wings Could Fly

by agirlnamedtruth



Series: WIPs [On Hiatus] [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Desk Sex, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Improvised Sex Toys, Multi, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spanking, Spitroasting, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A good fairytale always involves the girl being swept off her feet. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill [this prompt](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/31491.html?thread=31347203#t31347203) at KMM. Also as request from Fandomaid. So sorry it took so long to fill. 
> 
> Title taken from Wings by Birdy.

It took Gwen a little while to even consider that she wanted more than she already had. In Arthur she had her love, her king, her husband. But while her heart was satisfied, the rest of her ached to explore. She'd never had a man before Arthur. She'd never known a touch aside from her own. She couldn't help but lament that opening such a door to Arthur meant it was forever closed to anyone else.

It was a delicate subject, Gwen knew. For a king to want more was often heard of. From whores to mistresses to catamites, it was almost expected but for a woman... it was quite impossible. And it was driving her to distraction, driving her to want more and more of Arthur.

They'd been married a handful of weeks, not long enough for her to risk asking for anything but the chance to give him an heir. At night, in the privacy of their curtained bed, with her on her back and Arthur gentle between her thighs. Perfectly pleasant perhaps, but not what she longed for, not what she had fever dreams about afterwards.

It wasn't planned. She couldn't determine the thought that had spurred her to action. The mid-morning sun shining through the open window, the door closed but not locked, the desk strewn with important papers, Arthur studying them meticulously as she approached him, intending to suggest a ride out in the afternoon. Somewhere in all those thoughts, another one slipped through and won out.

Her hand covered the papers as she leaned over the desk, her deep red dress not best suited for leaning forward with modesty. Her kiss wasn't chaste, it wasn't demure, it didn't ask. It took, without a word. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip, demanding. She was sure it would have been better to simply share her desires with Arthur but a part of her enjoyed the rush, not knowing if Arthur would follow her or if he would be scandalised. A part of her knew she could never speak such a thing out loud.

He followed, mouth opening for her, matching her hunger, hands reaching for her shoulders to pull her closer, despite the brutal edges of the desk between them. She couldn't go any further. She couldn't move. Her heart was thumping and she could feel her cunt keeping pace with it, she could feel how wet the very idea that someone might walk in any moment, how anyone that saw her take control of even a kiss might think it improper and yet, she was trapped by a mere piece of furniture. 

She broke the kiss, breathing heavily, her mind still catching up with what her body insisted she do. She walked around the desk and stopped, taking in every detail. The flush of Arthur's chest beneath his white shirt, the way his eyes followed her as if in a daze, the blue in them almost taken over by black. When he pushed his chair back to stand, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulders.

“Guinevere?” he asked, confusion clouding his eyes further.

“I do not want to go to bed with you, Arthur,” she said gently, placing her fingers over his lips when his face fell. “I would have you right here, if it pleases you.”

She watched as he processed the idea, she could almost see it work its way through his mind and body, before smiling, his hand coming up to grab her by the waist and pull her closer.

Gwen smiled; aware she was blushing too deeply at her own words to risk asking anything more but infinitely glad her request was met with such enthusiasm. Her dress was not made to be taken off in a hurry, so she stepped in front of him, in front of the window behind him, and sat herself on his desk, caring less about the papers beneath her than the sight before her. Standing, Arthur looked over her, sharing the same breath as her as he closed the gap between them, kissing her again. 

His hands stayed on her waist, pushing her back on the desk until her feet could no longer reach the floor. Her own hands found the front of his shirt, using it to pull him down to her height. Her fingers strayed lower, finding the hem and forcing it up, letting her hand slip beneath it. She'd once said that she didn't care for the muscles of a knight's toned physique but every time, her body proved her wrong.

When she’d gotten his shirt over his head, she turned her thoughts back to her dress, dragging the skirts up over her legs until they gathered on her thighs, a mass of red velvet crushed in her hands. The first touch of his hand on her thigh burned though her like fire, with the realisation that she was actually doing this. They were actually doing this.

Gwen’s back arched, her hips pushing forward as she felt Arthur’s fingers inside her, opening her for his cock. She let her dress fall where it would, reaching for his trousers, her fingers tracing over the hard outline of his cock before pulling them down and freeing it. Heavy in her hand, she ran her fingers up and down its length, her breathing starting to quicken knowing that any moment, he’d be inside her properly, right there, right on the desk, for anybody to see.

She guided him inside, leaning back until she was balanced right on the edge of the desk and her back touched the rough paper spread out on the desk. Like this, the tabletop wasn’t quite big enough to support her and her hair hung down over the edge, pushed further and further off the table each time Arthur thrust into her until she could easily see the door behind her.

Gwen was sure it was the blood rushing in her head or her unnatural angle but every time she heard footsteps, she felt a jolt go through her, straight to her cunt. She imagined a hand on the door, the side of someone’s face pressed up against the wood on the other side. Surely they could hear. Surely the whole castle would hear as she cried out, Arthur’s cock hitting exactly the right place as her own fingers reached down to her clit.

Just as she was so close to coming, Arthur’s hands moved up her thighs, under her arse, lifting her off the table. For a second, she was flying. Her back arched up towards him, dragging her head up slowly enough that she wouldn’t end up with a crick in her neck but it didn’t stop the world from spinning or her heart from plunging downwards. 

“Fuck, Arthur,” Gwen said when she caught her breath, her head still spinning as she clung onto his neck, letting him rest her against the wall beside the window. She could still see the door over his shoulder, she could still hear every imagined word said on the other side of it and she was still getting closer and closer, with Arthur slamming into her harder than he had before, seemingly enjoying the added dangers as much as she, if his attention to the window was anything to go by.

Shouting out his name with every rise of her hips, Gwen came, nails digging into the back of Arthur’s neck hard enough that for a second, he nearly dropped her. She felt herself slip, she felt the rush towards the ground and closed her eyes, screaming out in something that wasn’t quite fear. Exhilaration. It wasn’t until the aftershocks had finished wracking her body that she realised he’d caught her. 

Before she could stop it, laughter climbed up her throat and out of her mouth. Once she’d started she couldn’t stop, even as she felt her feet touch the floor and Arthur’s cock slip out of her, still hard. 

Taking a deep breath and using all of her will to calm the giggles to a mere smile, she sank to her knees before him, something she’d not dared asked about but spent almost every moment thinking about. 

“Let me, sire,” she said, taking his cock, still wet from her cunt, in her hand. 

As she lowered her mouth onto it, she could taste herself, sharp and strong on her tongue. In the back of her mind she knew that all the princesses, all the proper ladies, that had been raised to be queens, all the girls Arthur would have married, would not do such a thing and she found it hard to be anything but proud of herself.

“Arthur?” 

At the sound of Merlin’s voice, Gwen swallowed around Arthur’s cock, kneeling up a little straighter, her noise of surprised nearly entirely suppressed by the heavy weight of his cock on her tongue.

“Out!” Arthur managed to shout before the door had been fully opened. Gwen sat back on her heels, slightly disappointed they hadn’t been caught but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she felt Arthur’s seed spill down her throat. 

Perhaps they could spice this heir begetting up a little after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a tiny bit of internalised "anal sex is wrong/only for gay men" and "masturbation is wrong" but only so far as to bring out the taboo elements of the era.

Gwen was sat at the table, poking food about her plate with her fork, mind completely stuck on repeat. Over and over she remembered the feel of Arthur’s hands on her thighs, on her hips, her arse. The heat of embarrassment she’d felt quickly turning into a rush of lust. The scrapes and pale bruises her servant had pretended not to see as she dressed her. The small smile that Gwen couldn’t keep off her lips knowing by now, that knowledge would be making its way through the kitchen staff, the stable boys, the knights, maybe even to Merlin’s ears. The very thought made her shift in her seat, her cunt aching and her body screaming for friction of any sort.

Pushing her plate aside, she buried the desire to throw herself down on the table and invite Arthur to take her anyway he pleased. Instead she met his eye and cleared her throat.

“The other day,” she started, quite unable to articulate what she was referring to. But Arthur looked over his shoulder to the desk without her saying the words and by the way he swallowed, she knew he was following her. “I would very much like to discuss the... events that occurred.”

Gwen’s eyes searched Arthur’s face for a reaction but he merely pushed his plate away as well and opened his hands, giving her the floor. “I would very much encourage that discussion and would like to know your thoughts on the matter.”

Gwen tried to stifle her smile but it was impossible. She knew she was making it sound like a matter of state rather than a private matter but the only other way she could put it made her whole body burn, even though the words had haunted her dreams and her waking thoughts. “Fuck me again like that.”

That got a reaction, Gwen was pleased to note as Arthur reached for a glass of water to cover the fact he’d nearly choked on thin air. Her own breath even and controlled, she added, “If it would please you, sire.”

“Please me?” Arthur asked, voice strained and blushing slightly himself. “Guinevere, if it would please you I would take you to bed this instant.”

Gwen bit her lip, unable to put her finger on the feeling that fluttered inside her. The slight flicker of disappointment. “Not that. Something else. Something you would never think you could do with a proper lady.”

She could see the argument rise on his lips, that she was a _proper_ lady. That she was his queen but that’s not what she needed to hear. “Whether I am or not is not the issue Arthur. I wish for you to pretend otherwise. To not act out of marital duty. I want you to act because you have to, because desire drives you like a brand drives an animal into action. Arthur, please just... treat me like any other woman, please.”

Gwen knew the state she must look; cheeks aflame from her own words yet undeniably moved by them herself. She felt she could not breathe in the bindings of her dress and she stood, pushing away from the table, their meal forgotten. This time she wouldn’t go to him, she had explored taking the initiative. This time she wanted him to come to her.

Had it been bed time, she would have summoned a servant to undress her and put her in her nightdress, ready for him but it wasn’t and she didn’t want her nightdress, with its white lace and gold thread. She reached for the back of her dress, insistent that she struggle out of it without a servant. She was almost taken by surprise when she felt Arthur’s hand on her back, fingers easily undoing the fastenings that she couldn’t reach.

“I had this dream,” Arthur said as quietly as if there might have been someone to overhear. “Before we were betrothed, after we kissed the first time. I thought I was going mad, thinking such things. I blamed the talk of the knights, the acts they would brag about...”

Gwen breathed in as the dress hit the floor, leaving her naked in its wake. “Tell me.”

Arthur shook his head, kissing down her neck, following her collarbone down until he could not reach any further. “Why tell you when I could show you?”

Gwen reached out for the bed post, not entirely sure her knees could take the thought. But still, she nodded, agreeing to anything he would share with her, be it the most lewd act or the most simple one. She felt his hands move up her back and she moved with them, leaning forward, bending over, acutely aware that she was presenting her arse to him. 

Fingers clinging tighter as he knelt behind her, she felt his breath hot on her cunt but it wasn’t enough. She spread her feet further apart, bending down further until her shoulder was braced against the smooth wood of the post, digging in hard enough to leave another mark to go with the fading evidence of their time before. As he spread open her cheeks with his hands, she was sure she was going to scar the wood with her nails. Her breath was shaky and she was sure the tension was killing her but when she felt the scratch of his stubble against her, his mouth pressed against her cunt even as the rest of his face was buried in her arse, it was all worth it.

He licked along her cunt, the heat of his mouth unlike anything Gwen had felt before and when he reached her clit, she almost thought she couldn’t take it anymore. But she didn’t pull away. She held fast, pushing back into his mouth, no longer embarrassed by his proximity to her arse. Risking a glance over her shoulder, she dared look at him, on his knees for her, licking her as hungrily as a man starved, half of his face hidden by the swell of her arse, only his eyes to show just how much he was getting off on having her this way. _Fuck_ , Gwen thought to herself. She could see how dreams of this had made him feel mad; it was sending her half insane herself. If kneeling for him had given her a rush then seeing him kneel for her was a drug, an intoxicant stronger than any wine she’d tasted.

Just as she was so close to coming, from the sensation of his mouth on her clit and the sight of him, subservient to her, worshiping her, he slowed, pulling her back from the brink. At first, she was confused, hurt even that he would leave her without proper release but her feelings soon dissolved as she felt his fingers slip inside her, easily moving in and out where she was so wet. Swallowing, a different pleasure started building inside her. Not the gentle, constant heat of his mouth but the demanding press of his fingers inside her, making her want more and more. The words forming in her brain, were half out of her mouth when Arthur changed everything, gave her everything.

At first, she thought he was just licking up his fingers, keeping them from getting too wet but after a moment, she could still feel his tongue against her entrance, teasing around his fingers and then going further, up, away from her sensitive cunt that expected such attention to her other hole, the one she’d quite forgotten. As he dragged his tongue over the slick space in between, a shiver went down her spine. She knew what he was doing, waiting for her to deny him and every good girl thought in her head was screaming that this was _wrong_ , this was _bad_ and _dirty_ and something only for catamites and men that preferred their dalliances with other men but oh, God, the very thought throbbed in her clit, like it was screaming out, _yes_ , as loudly as her lungs were. 

It wasn’t as easy, the gentle laps of his tongue around her arsehole as it had been on her cunt. She had to chase the feeling, really focus that yes, her husband, _the king_ was eating her arse like he’d apparently dreamed of. That he’d dreamed, for years, of such a thing. That he didn’t care about what anyone might think or say or fuck, even what she might think of him. That he just wanted it. Fuck. _Fuck_.

She wrapped her arm around the post, her other hand coming down to her clit, quickly working it as she felt his fingers curl inside her. She didn’t care that good girls weren’t supposed to touch themselves either, she was too far gone to listen to that little voice in her head. She much preferred the sound of Arthur’s voice, muffled between her cheeks as he tried to say her name, encourage her to come. She was so close, she could almost taste it and then she felt it, the slightest breach of her hole as Arthur’s tongue pressed inside.

She wanted to reach around, grab his hair and hold him there, hold him still as she pushed back against his mouth but all her strength had abandoned her. All she could do was cling onto the bed post, furiously rubbing her clit and grinding down onto his face as she came, imagining him fucking her arse like that, like he was with his tongue.

Still suffering the echoes of her pleasure, she almost thinks she's still imagining the feel of Arthur's cock against her arse but when it brushes there a few moments later, smearing pre-come over her hole but she soon realises it's as real as the rest of him. _Oh God_ , she thought for a moment, _do it, just do it, please_ but her good sense wins out. The tightness of her cunt is burn enough; she can't just beg him to take her rear, completely unprepared and ignorant of the means and methods to prepare herself for it. Just before the words leave her mouth, she grabbed Arthur's wrist with fingers still wet from touching herself and repositioned him lower, teasing the head of his cock against her entrance.

She can't stop herself from crying out in triumph as he slams deep into her, taking her as one of his hunting hounds might take a brood bitch, from behind, with teeth dragging down the back of her neck, fingers digging into the flesh of her arse, squeezing it and just when she thought her body couldn't take another conflicting sensation, Arthur's hand left her arse and returned an open palm, landing with a satisfying crack that burned through her like a fever, stinging and singing at the same time.

"Sorry, got carried away," Arthur apologised, stroking the skin that he'd just spanked. Gwen couldn't deny there had been a little squeak of indignation at being spanked and a blush flared over her face because the last time had been when she was a child caught playing with the forge tools but this was different. This was sexual, like he was claiming her.

Experimentally, she ran her own hand over the soft skin on her other cheek before hitting it. It didn't carry the same weight but there was the same spark.

"Do it again," she urged him, moving to brace herself against the mattress instead so she could bend over properly. When he pushed back inside, it felt impossibly deep, giving her butterflies in her stomach every time he thrust into her but they were lulled again with every short, sharp spank and every following soft stroke. One after the other, thrust, slap, stroke, like the step, thrust and parry of a sword fight. She counted twenty before she cried out, shaking her head, overwhelmed beyond the point of pain or pleasure.

Her nails digging into the sheets, her legs started to tremble beneath her. Arthur's hand left her arse, tightening instead on her hip, drawing her up into his body and away from the solidity of the bed. Barely touching the floor with her tip toes, she grabbed onto Arthur's neck, craning up into a kiss, teeth clashing against his because the angle was wrong but everything else was so right.

His arm reached around her body, holding her firm, hand reaching between her parted thighs, to where his cock was still sliding in and out of her in a steady, hard rhythm, keeping her balanced on the edge of coming. His fingers, firm on her clit, was all it took to make her unravel again. Feeling him come inside her, feeling it drip down her thighs rather than onto the sheets was so new, she almost had the urge to fetch a cloth. Instead, she caught the drops on her fingers and brought them up to her mouth, sucking her fingers in, basking in his taste before he turned her head and kissed her as deeply as he had before.

But she had to break free. It was too much, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat and her legs so weak, she was certain they would never support her again. As if he could read her mind, Arthur hooked his arm under her legs and swept her off her feet, carrying her over to the bed and setting her down on top of the sheets.

“Thank you,” he said reverently, as he placed himself beside her, She glanced over him, naked as she was, the only sign he’d done anything at all was the fact his breeches hadn’t quite been fastened properly.

Gwen laughed, both at their state and his tone, like she had been indifferent to the course the evening had taken, like she hadn’t just come harder than any other time between them, sounding almost as if she were indulging him when it was quite the opposite. She wanted to know every dream, every secret thought and explore them with him, along with a few of her own. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Arthur, I _wanted_ to do this, surely you could see that,” she assured him breathlessly.

Arthur nodded, his hand running idly up and down her hourglass waist. “I know. I just... want you to know, before you moved my hand, I wouldn’t have...” he paused, as if searching for a word appropriate for her ears.

“Sodomised me?” Gwen asked, the word like a scrumped apple on her tongue. Forbidden, dangerous even but wonderfully juicy.

“No,” Arthur said then quickly followed it with, “Yes. I mean, not if you didn’t want me to.”

Gwen pulled him into a kiss, slow and lazy like she could coax his next words from his mouth. “But you did want to?”

She traced her thumb over his lips as he nodded, as red faced as she imagines she must have been when she asked him to take her on the desk. “Good because I wanted you to.”

“Really?” Arthur asked, his surprised coated with too easy confidence. She could always tell the difference, even before she’d realised she liked him. 

“Really,” she agreed, settling against his chest, her head over his slow, steady heart, smiling when it missed a beat as she suggested, “Perhaps that’s something for another night.”

**Author's Note:**

> As of 01/01/18, I'm opting to disable comments. [More information here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13077201).


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